The Agatha Christie Book Club

by Larmer, C. A.

  “Well, it has been a few days, anything could have happened.”

  “What? No, I mean for me.” He took a gulp of his macchiato. “I reckon they think I was involved.”

  “Really? Why?” She tried to keep her tone light but he just shrugged so she said, “Is it because you stand to gain?”

  He glared at her for a few seconds before his expression relaxed. “She tell you that, eh? You really were best buds. Yeah, old Barb left me her house. A tiny trust fund for her daughter but, yeah, I get the bulk of her half of the estate, or so the cops tell me.”

  “I hate to say this but it does kind of sound like motive,” Lynette said, wincing slightly because she knew how it would be received.

  As expected, he sat forward, anger deepening his furrowed brow even further. “I didn’t kill my sister for her bloody house! Christ. I love Barbara, she’s everything to me, more like a mum than a sister. Hell, I need that woman. She’s the reason this place is still standing, damn it. She’s helped me so much, never a problem. Why would I do her in?”

  “Niles, I’m just saying, I know what money pits restaurants can be. Your sister’s wealth could come in handy for a place like this.”

  “My sister’s wealth is no use to me now,” he said. “At least not while Arthur’s alive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is what I told the coppers. Sure, I get her half of that ugly pile of bricks they call a house, but it’s not like Arthur’s going anywhere in a hurry. He’s hardly about to sell up and pay me out is he?”

  “So, even if they do find your poor sister has, well, passed away, you don’t get anything?”

  He rubbed a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Not unless Arthur drops dead suddenly, no I do not. So, to be perfectly frank, my sister is a lot more help to me alive than she is dead. Or missing, for that matter. Now, if that’s all, I’ve got work to get on with.”

  He pushed his chair back and stood up with a huff, then disappeared through the back kitchen door. Lynette finished her coffee and muffin then stood up to pay the bill but Niles was still out the back. She called his name then poked her head through the kitchen door to see if she could spot him. He was nowhere to be found and she went to turn back when she noticed a bulging backpack and sleeping bag rolled up against one wall. She wondered if he was heading off somewhere when she felt a light tap her on the shoulder. Lynette swung around to find Niles glaring at her.

  “What are you looking at?” he demanded.

  She swallowed hard. “Nothing, sorry, I just wanted to pay my bill, that’s all.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds then said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

  No wonder he’s broke, she thought again, dropping some gold coins in the tip bucket by the coffee machine as she departed.

  On her way back to work, Lynette couldn’t help thinking that while Niles was certainly a hopeless businessman, and a little creepy at that, he was absolutely right. He had no apparent motive for killing his sister. Not unless Arthur suddenly showed up dead, of course.

  And what were the chances of that?

  Chapter 15

  Around the same time that Lynette was interrogating Niles, Missy was busy doing a little snooping of her own. It was just after 11:00 a.m. and she had managed to talk her way into the Parlour mansion with little difficulty, leaving several stunned members of the press languishing on the sidewalk. That was the good thing about being deemed ‘ditzy’, she thought as she began looking around. People assumed you were harmless and generally believed what you had to say, if only to shut you up.

  “You find?” asked Rosa, striding into the lounge room, one hand clutching her iPod Touch, the other pulling the tiny headphones out of her ears. Today she was wearing another tight, revealing dress, her face plastered with make-up, her hair pulled to one side with a plastic pink hibiscus hair clip that clashed horribly with her thick, orange streak.

  Missy had given some cock and bull story about a lost book and Rosa had simply looked at her like she had never heard anything so remotely boring and said, “Come, you look.” She’d then led her into the lounge room and left her to search alone, saying something about checking her emails.

  Missy glanced around from where she’d been checking out a side table and sighed deliberately. “No I have not found my book, and I am going to get in the biggest trouble of my life!”

  “What is book? What name?”

  “It’s called Evil Under the Sun, but it’s a hard cover, an early edition from the library where I work, so it’s really special and I should never have leant it to Barbara, but she didn’t have a copy and she needed it for book club and she promised me she’d get it straight back to me, and oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, I’m dead if I can’t locate it. I’ll lose my job!”

  “Maybe she take book with her?” suggested Rosa, cocking one fake eyebrow, and Missy acted even more alarmed.

  “Then I really am in trouble, because, I mean, where is Barbara? Does anyone have any idea?”

  Rosa shrugged as if she really didn’t care. “Okay,” she sighed. “I help you.”

  “Thank you sooooo much!” gushed Missy, pretending to inspect the bookcase. “I’m really lucky you’re still around. I wasn’t sure you would be.”

  Rosa turned back on her, both eyebrows raised sky-high now. “Why not I be here?! Who feed Mr Parlour and Miss Holly? Who look after them? Is my job!”

  Missy was surprised by her vehemence. “Well, yes, until Barbara comes back, of course.”

  “Pft!” she said, placing the iPod headphones back in place. “Okay I go check bedroom.”

  Rosa disappeared again giving Missy another chance to inspect the trophies she had been looking at earlier. There were a few token golf trophies of Arthur’s and various pre-teen soccer, athletics and swimming medals and trophies that belonged to Holly. But nothing for Barbara. There were no photos of the woman either.

  “Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my lounge room?!”

  Missy swung back around to find Arthur standing at the doorway, hands on his hips, a furious spark in his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t shaven in days, and his tie was slung loosely around his neck as though he couldn’t quite found the energy to fix it or take it off.

  “Oh, hello there!” Missy said, ramping up the ditz and bobbing her red locks from side to side. “You must be Barbara’s husband? I’m Missy, a friend of your wife’s from book club, I’m just—”

  “Book club?! Again!” His jaw dropped and he shook his head disbelievingly. “What is it with you people?!”

  “Ooh, sorry, I really don’t mean to disturb you Mr Parlour, I’m just looking for a book I leant Barbara a few weeks ago...”

  Missy explained about the missing Agatha Christie novel but, unlike Rosa, Arthur didn’t seem to be buying it. He stared at her sceptically.

  “Tried checking the book case have we?” His tone was laced with sarcasm.

  “Yes but I just can’t see it. Still you know, my mother always says I suffer from domestic blindness—I scream for the salt and pepper when they’re sitting right in front of—”

  “Look, lady, this is not a good time.”

  “Oh, of course not, I’m so sorry, I know it’s been really difficult what with Barbara missing and all.”

  Rosa returned then and looked startled to see her boss. She yanked the headphones back out of her ears and thrust the whole device behind her back. Arthur whipped his head around to her and the look on his face even made Missy recoil.

  “What the hell are you doing letting some strange woman wander around my house?!” he boomed.

  “Sorry, er, Mr Parlour, I just thought—”

  “Well don’t think! I don’t pay you to think. You’re not the bloody mistress of this house, you should be checking with me first before anyone comes into my house. Got it?”

  Missy glanced at Rosa. Her face was now bright red and she looked like she was about to cry, so she quickly
stepped in.

  “Look, sorry, it’s not Rosa’s fault, really it’s not. I insisted she let me in. She was just helping me out.”

  “It’s not her job to help you out. Not her job to do anything but wash my dishes and cook my dinner. Now, I think it’s time you left. If I find the bloody book, I’ll let you know.”

  “Of course, yes, sorry...”

  Missy followed him out of the lounge room, down the marble hallway to the front door. As she went she glanced back and the look she saw in Rosa’s eyes surprised her. Her embarrassment had dissipated and in its place was something colder and more detached. She wondered if that look was being directed at her or the angry boss.

  Arthur swung the door open, stopped, and turned back, his eyes still fiery.

  “I have had just about enough of you lot coming here snooping about. If I see one more member of the bloody Jane Austen Book Club—”

  “Agatha Christie, actually.”

  “What?!”

  “Sorry, it’s just that you said Jane Austen, we’re the Agatha Christie Book Club. Quite different.”

  He looked at her like he wanted to wring her neck, and she took note of this. He fired up quickly she thought. As if reading her mind, or perhaps spotting the news crews who were now grappling with their cameras and microphones and rushing towards the gate, looks of disbelief and delight on their faces, he quickly closed the door again and took a deep breath. It was several seconds before he spoke, but when he did he was much more controlled. His tone was softer this time, even a little pleading.

  “Look, sorry for lashing out. I hope you understand, it is an extremely trying time for me. I don’t know what’s happened to my wife but I strongly believe she’s okay and she will be home soon.”

  “I thought you’d be happy to be free of her,” Missy said gently, knowing she was entering dangerous waters but feeling buoyed now by his change of demeanour and the cameramen hovering outside. If he tried anything, they would hear her scream.

  Arthur stared at her surprised. “Free? Why would I want to be free of her? I’m hoping to run a campaign for state government next year; Barbara needs to be beside me, where she belongs. I can’t have any kind of scandal hanging over my head. This is the very last thing I want. And you can tell that to your Agatha Christie cronies!”

  *****

  The aforementioned ‘cronies’ were not buying it. Or at least Perry wasn’t.

  “He would say that wouldn’t he?” he said, helping himself to some dark chocolate that Claire had just placed in a rose coloured glass bowl on the table. “He’s covering his own butt.” Perry popped a piece into his mouth and licked his fingers delicately.

  The Agatha Christie Book Club was squeezed into the tiny café at the back of the Timeless Vintage Clothing Store on Victoria Street in Potts Point. Determined that the Finlay sisters should not have to do all the hosting work on their own, Claire had kindly offered to hold the next meeting at her shop, hanging the ‘Closed’ sign on the front door and leading the way through to the café at the back. Although tiny and unobtrusive, the café was a big hit with the customers and had been since it was installed a few years back so that bored partners could kill time sipping coffee and reading magazines while their other halves tried on outfit after outfit in peace.

  This kept everyone content and the cash registers ticking over.

  Alicia glanced around. There was just one round table in the centre of the room, a few delicate wrought iron chairs around it, as well as several chrome and vinyl stools along the walls where racks of magazines and books were stored, and a tiny kitchenette at the back where the coffee was brewed and muffins, friands and other delicacies sold.

  The café was separated from the main shop by flowing maroon velvet curtains which, along with a Persian rug, black and white prints, and an art nouveau glass Tiffany lamp shade made you feel like you’d just stepped back into a 1940s Parisian speakeasy. All the furniture had price tags attached.

  The boutique itself was bursting with a stunning array of vintage clothes, shoes, handbags and scarves all in excellent condition, and the women, including Perry it must be said, found it difficult to ignore the merchandise as they were ushered through. Along the way, Claire explained how she visited her mother in Paris several times a year to scour its fabulous flea-markets for these treasures which she then shipped back home. Sneaking a peek at several price tags on the way, Alicia could see this was not your regular opshop. The prices were hefty for second-hand gear.

  Today, Claire looked like she’d just stepped off a Parisian street herself, in a silky black and white polka dot blouse over a black skirt, her hair in a loose chignon. She fetched them all beverages before joining them in a huddle around Alicia’s journal, going through the ‘evidence so far’

  After hearing about Missy’s rendezvous with Arthur in his lounge room, some of the members were not happy.

  “You really shouldn’t have gone back to Barbara’s place without letting one of us know,” Anders scolded.

  “Sorry, lovely, I just thought I’d help out, that’s all. I feel like a third nostril sometimes, just sitting in the library all day, doing nothing. Thought I’d do a little snooping, see what I could see.”

  “It’s great you want to help,” said Alicia, soothingly, “it’s just that we don’t know who we’re dealing with here. I mean what if you’d come to harm and we didn’t know where you were?”

  “Oh there were plenty of journos hanging around, there’s no way Arthur could’ve done anything. In fact if you watch the Channel Ten news tonight you might spot my fat bottom waddling away.”

  “Maybe they think you’re having an affair with him now?” suggested Perry cheekily and Missy mock gagged.

  “No thank you! He’s such a pig. All he cares about is his precious political career. That’s why I believe him when he says he wants her back. He needs her at home playing The Good Wife.”

  “It does make sense,” agreed Alicia. “So apart from validating his terrible temper, what else did you find?”

  “Hm, nothing really, and that’s what’s so strange.”

  They looked at Missy perplexed as she scooped her glasses off and began cleaning them with an edge of her light pink, sparkly cotton cardigan.

  “I can’t put my finger on it, but, well, I couldn’t help the feeling that something was missing...”

  “Yeah, the wife, Barbara, remember?” said Perry.

  “Mmm, maybe that’s all it was.” She placed the specs back on. “Maybe I should go back in and have another look.”

  “Nooooo!” several of them chorused.

  “Alright, alright,” Missy said trying not to be offended. “Anyway, I doubt very much Rosa would let me through the front door again. Not after Arthur bit her head off. Oooh he was cranky! You know, now I mention it, she was acting kind of strange, too. Sort of reminded me of my sister’s mother-in-law.”

  “Huh?” they chorused again.

  “Well, Mildred, that’s the mother-in-law—quite a nice lady if you’re not related to her, but sadly, Henny, my sister, is. So, anyway, Henny’s away on a girl’s weekend, right? And gets back early to find Mildred in her kitchen, cooking up a storm. Now that wouldn’t be such a problem, I mean what’s not to love about someone filling your freezer with casseroles, right? But it’s not just that, she’s also re-tuned the radio to her favourite station—some boring classical thingy—and get this, has moved some of the furniture around the way she likes it. She was there, what two days, max, looking after the kids and she takes over! Rosa was kinda acting like that.”

  The group stared at her, bemused. Anders coughed discreetly and gave Alicia a pointed look.

  “Okay then,” said Alicia quickly. “I think you made your point, Missy.”

  In fact she wasn’t sure what Missy’s point was at all but she wanted to move things along. She turned to her sister. “Lyn, how about filling us all in on your visit to see Barbara’s brother?”

  “Sure,” said Lynet
te, “but before I do I have to say, I think Arthur sounds just like Niles. Neither of them is going to win any humanitarian awards but they do seem to be quite sincere in wanting Barbara back and alive. It’s in both their interests.”

  She filled them in on her visit to Niles’ café. “He seems genuinely distressed about Barbara’s disappearance although, as I say, he’s more worried about how it’s affecting his life than hers. I mean, who’s going to pay his mounting bills now? He’s also super stressed about the police and all the questions they’re asking. I got a dodgy vibe from the guy, bit of a victim if you know what I mean, but I’m not sure he’s a killer.”

  “We’re running out of suspects,” said Perry, gloomily.

  “There’s always that tennis coach,” said Claire and Perry’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes, I’d forgotten about him. You think he has something to do with it?”

  Claire shrugged and then proceeded to tell them about her visit to Woollahra with Alicia, and the strange conversation they had overheard between Holly and Jake. All agreed the words could be construed as suspicious.

  “What do you think Holly meant by ‘We can’t keep this quiet’?” asked Missy.

  “Maybe Holly suspects that Jake killed her mum and she wants him to fess up to her Dad?” suggested Perry.

  “Or maybe it’s completely unrelated,” said Claire.

  Perry sneered. “You’re no fun at all Miss Hargreaves!”

  “Of course we might be searching in the wrong direction entirely,” Alicia suggested. “Maybe it was someone we have never met who had a gripe with her? Hell, it could easily be the work of a stranger. Maybe she picked up a crazy hitchhiker.”

  “The majority of murders are committed by people we know,” said Missy. “Terribly sad and tragic fact but that’s the truth. The difference between love and hate is one very fine line, my darlings. There are endless stories—and I’m not talking Agatha Christie stories—I mean, fair dinkum, real-life tales of wives killing husbands, husbands killing daughters, and I mean it just goes on and on!”